Shifts
by Gryvon
Summary: MPreg. Stiles has what he's always secretly wanted - he's in a relationship with Derek and he's one of Derek's betas - but all that gets turned upside down when Gerard kidnaps him and his unexpected baby.


It starts because of Danny.

No, if he's really honest with himself, these thoughts, these urges, they started long before Danny. Danny just got him thinking – what would it be like. Even if Danny never answered him, never said yes or no to whether he was attractive enough to be gay, that didn't stop him from thinking about it. He knows it's a dangerous road of thought to go down but he can't stop himself.

He's used to rejection. He's been chasing Lydia for years. She always says no and that's okay. Lydia is safe. She has no interest in him, so there's no chance he'd ever actually have to go through with anything, never have to get his heart crushed. He's used to not being wanted, but suddenly, now, he's actually afraid of it. More than afraid, terrified.

It's just a joke. A stupid joke, meant to relieve some of the tension in the room once Danny leaves. Derek's mad at him. Derek is always mad at him. The words just blurt out. He's used to that, used to his mind going out of control on him and then his mouth following after.

"If you're looking for a conciliatory blowjob, the expert on that just left."

Derek's eyes bore into him, so hard that Stiles expects to see little blue dots on his clothing like laser pointers. "What?" He's not sure if Derek's tone is angry or something else.

"Never mind," he says instead and prays to whatever God or gods might be out there that just this once Derek's super wolf hearing had actually missed what he'd said.

He is not that lucky. "Did you just offer to blow me?"

Stiles gapes like a fish and stares at the door. He's not sure if he wants to try to run for it or if he's hoping Danny might come back and save him from this awkwardness. Derek's still staring at him though, in a way that kind of demands an answer.

"Yes. No. Maybe." One of those three is the truth, he's just not sure which one.

"Okay." The way Derek says the word is trivial, like it doesn't even matter that Stiles – a sixteen-year-old boy – just offered to blow him – a twenty-something werewolf.

"Okay yes or okay that happened?" He isn't even sure why he's seeking clarification. He shouldn't, but now that the thought is in his head, it's stuck there, like it was doused with a whole bottle of Gorilla glue.

"Okay yes."

"Oh." He stays frozen in his chair for a moment. They stare at each other.

Then Derek's hand reaches down to unfasten his belt, like it's a challenge. Like he expects Stiles won't go through with it.

There's a flicker of surprise on Derek's face as Stiles stands up. He drops to his knees in front of Derek and then he's reaching forward, moving like his body is on autopilot, like he gives blowjobs every day instead of never.

Then Derek's cock is in his hand. It's warm and thick and half-hard, but that changes the instant Stiles leans forward, wraps his lips around the head and pushes his way down. He's seen enough porn to know how this works, though his execution of it isn't even close to as flawless as the actors in the videos.

He goes slowly, because this is all so very new to him. It's strange the way Derek fills his mouth, making his lips stretch wide around him, but at the same time there's a certain thrill to it, like he stuck a fork in an electric socket. He's all nervous energy, so much so that he wonders if Derek can't feel him vibrating on the floor.

Derek's hand settles on his head, not grasping, not holding, just resting there, and it calms him. He pulls his mouth back, letting all but the tip of Derek's cock slide out of him and then he slides forward again, taking it in until he has to swallow around the tip of it to get it all in his throat.

He lacks a gag reflex, he finds. Well, it's there, but it's not much of one. Maybe it just doesn't trigger because he's going slow, because he knows when Derek's cock is going to be pushing down his throat. Maybe he wore it out by testing how much of a Popsicle he could suck on at once when he was a kid. He really likes Popsicles.

He assumes Derek is enjoying it because his cock is hard in Stiles's mouth and he can taste a bit of salt on his tongue. Pre-cum. Derek's going to come soon and the thought makes Stiles suddenly greedy. He moves faster, pushes his mouth down harder. He tries and sort of fails to get his tongue involved in the mix. The thought of making Derek come consumes him, and when Derek does, shooting salty spurts of liquid down Stiles's mouth, it tastes like victory.

Derek makes no noise, doesn't even tighten his fingers on Stiles's head, but when Stiles reluctantly pulls his mouth away and tentatively looks up, Derek's eyes are glowing blue and they're fixed on him.

It should make him feel frightened, but he's not.

He stands slowly, very aware how hard he is in his jeans but he can't ask Derek for anything. Derek wouldn't give it to him.

"I'm just going to..." He waves awkwardly towards the bathroom. "...and then we can go."

He disappears before Derek even has a chance to say anything and locks himself inside the bathroom. He stays pressed against the door, staring at his own reflection in the mirror while he tries to force his heart to stop pounding like it's going to burst out of his chest. He looks less debauched than he expected. One of the benefits of not having much hair, he supposes. His lips are wet and shiny and a little puffy, but that's it. Even his blush has faded.

He pulls himself together and steps away from the door. He washes his face, then brushes his teeth for good measure. He's briefly tempted to jack off but he knows Derek can hear him, so he doesn't risk it. His erection dies a slow, sad death.

Derek follows him to the Jeep like nothing happened and they sit in the hospital parking lot like nothing happened. He starts to wonder if nothing did happen, if it was all in his head.

He probably deserves the sudden impact of his head to the steering wheel, though part of him thinks that giving Derek a blow job should give him at least a twenty-four hour moratorium on physical violence. The pain at least helps clear his head, helps him focus. He should have known better than to expect anything to change. Derek doesn't feel anything for him.

All in all, nearly getting killed by Derek's psychotic, formerly comatose uncle is a strangely fitting end to what had turned out to be a remarkably strange day.

* * *

He doesn't hear from Derek after that. He knows that should be a good thing, considering Derek's apparently turned dark side with his uncle, but it isn't. He expects... something. Not flowers, but maybe a thank you card. Something.

It eats at him enough that he calls Danny, opening with "How much do you know about blow jobs?" in lieu of "Hello".

It takes Danny a full five seconds to respond with an incredulous "What?" followed shortly by "Why?"

"I want to know what I did wrong." Stiles doesn't even realize how pathetic the words sound until they're out of his mouth.

Danny sighs, and Stiles can feel Danny's pity through the phone.

They spend an hour on the phone, something entirely unusual for them since most of their conversations are limited to curt exchanges, often involving Danny telling him "No". Danny gives him the safe sex talk, which makes Stiles's entire face go red and he is so, so glad Danny can't see him. Danny's knowledge is remarkably extensive and Stiles wonders later why he didn't just save himself the embarrassment and Google it. He supposed he just wanted to have a voice attached to the advice, to assure him that he didn't do anything wrong.

It isn't until Scott comes over later that he finds out that, no, Derek isn't avoiding him, he's just been kidnapped by hunters and that just makes Stiles feel even worse about the whole conversation with Danny.

* * *

They save Derek's life – and Scott and Alison's – and defeat Peter. Yay! He doesn't see Derek again after that, not until he's driving to the police station to save Isaac's life. He feels slightly awkward picking up Derek outside of Isaac's house, feels like he should say something but he doesn't. Derek acts like everything's normal and so he follows along, pretending that he's not heartbroken, not even a little bit.

He gets it. Derek is the Alpha now. He doesn't need someone like Stiles hanging around, especially now that he's apparently recruiting a new pack. He only needs Stiles because Stiles knows his way around the Sheriff's station.

Still, he can't help the urge to let his hand linger on Derek even as he's pulling away. He wants to hear how Derek plans on charming the front desk attendant, but he wants the words to be directed at him, for him.

They aren't. Apparently the only thing Derek wants to do to him is punch him in the face.

Saving Isaac takes priority over his own piteous little crush, but he admits he's distracted when he walks in there. So distracted that he doesn't notice there's an arrow sticking out of a cop he's never met before – and he knows them all by sight at this point. He doesn't see it until it's too late and he's being kidnapped. Again.

This is his life. Kidnappings and murder and werewolves. He wonders if he maybe has a death wish, or at least a less than firm grasp on mortality, considering how often he finds himself in near-death situations. It's kind of fitting, since he seems to have a stupid, strange crush on Derek even though he knows Derek would rather eat him than be with him, and not the fun kind of eating either.

Then Derek does the strangest thing. He saves Stiles's life, stands between him and angry wolf-Isaac like he's going to make Isaac go through him to get at Stiles. In that second he has hope, and then Derek roars and Isaac's backing down and he realizes it isn't really about fighting to save Stiles, it's just an Alpha thing.

It doesn't stop his heart from racing with something more than fear.

It doesn't stop him from staring at the back of Derek's leather jacket as he leaves. Derek has a pack now. He doesn't need Stiles. Or so he thinks, at least until he gets home and nearly jumps out of his skin when he finds Derek sitting in his dark room waiting for him.

"What...?" He whispers, very aware of his father downstairs.

Derek stands as Stiles closes the door. He doesn't turn on the light, plunging them both into near-darkness as the light from the hallway is cut off. Derek's eyes glow red and they put off just enough light to see Derek approaching. He expects Derek to hurt him – bite him, scratch him, whatever it takes to turn him and add him to Derek's new pack of misfit toys – but the hands that run over him are gentle. Strangely gentle.

He's not complaining. He's never going to complain about Derek touching him, even when it hurts, but there's something weird about the way Derek's touching him now. It's very thorough.

"What are you doing?" He asks, instead of the million other questions whizzing through his head.

"Are you okay?" Derek answers Stiles's question with another and it's so irritatingly Derek that Stiles doesn't know how to handle it.

It's all he can do to keep from leaning into the warmth of Derek's body. He doesn't move. "I'm fine." For once, that's actually mostly true. Maybe he's a little mentally scarred but he's not bruised or broken or anything, for a change.

Derek steps into him and Stiles lets him, lets Derek push him against the wall. Then there's a hand down his pants. His hands clutch at Derek's shoulders, slipping against the leather jacket a moment before he finds his hold. He moans.

He should be doing something, should be touching something. But he can't. He can only hold on while Derek touches him. He can't think. It's so rare for his brain not to be going crazy, even with the meds, but at this moment, with his forehead pressed to Derek's chest and Derek's hand on him, all he can feel is calm.

Derek's scent wraps around him. It's like a blanket of safety. It helps, in a way he didn't know he needed. He leans into Derek and Derek just holds him. His free arm wraps around Stiles, keeping him close even while his other hand runs over his cock, hot and slow and perfect in all the ways he needs it to be.

He bites his lip, turns his head into Derek's jacket to muffle the sounds he's making. He's so uncharacteristically silent as Derek slowly pulls him apart. He feels incredibly vulnerable, worse than in the police station when Isaac wanted to tear his throat out. He feels like he could shatter at a single word.

But Derek says nothing. His breath is hot on Stiles's neck. They're both quiet when Stiles finally comes, spilling himself in his pants. At least they're already dirty.

Derek's hand is wet when he pulls it out. Stiles slides to the ground when Derek steps away. He can't hold himself up anymore. When he looks up, Derek is still watching him, his eyes bright, bright red.

They stare at each other for a long moment and then Derek is leaving. Stiles reaches out, opens his mouth, about to offer to reciprocate but Derek is gone before the words escape his mouth.

He's not sure how long he stays there, frozen on the floor. His ass starts to hurt after a while, and his jeans stick uncomfortably to his skin. It takes a herculean force of effort just to move, to stand and strip off his clothes. He cleans himself off with a handful of tissues and pulls on a pair of sweatpants, too strung out to be bothered with much else.

He finds himself on his computer, already logged in to chat with a message to Danny sent before he even realizes it. Surprisingly, Danny's still awake.

_'How do you know if a guy likes you?'_ Stiles stares at the words in the chat window and cringes. They've already been sent, but he can't help but feel like a teenage girl, like some kind of freak because he doesn't just know.

'_Why?'_ Danny types back a few minutes later. Stiles stares at the screen, trying to think of an answer that doesn't sound completely insane. A new message appears, saving his brain from a world of hurt. _'Is this about the blow job guy?'_

_'Yes.'_ He types. _'I saw him again. We... did things.'_

_'You had sex with him?'_

It's kind of sad that Stiles is having this conversation with Danny instead of Scott. Danny, who used to barely tolerate him and laughed when Jackson called him a freak every day all through middle school, but who has since taken Stiles under his wing like he's Stiles's gay mentor. Which he is, because Stiles has no clue how to be gay. He completely failed at being straight so far, considering he's never even kissed a girl. Admittedly he's never kissed a guy either, but he thinks giving a guy a blow job earns him far more gay points than a kiss would.

_'Stiles?'_

Right. Danny asked him a question. _'Yes? No? Does a hand job count?'_

_'Giving or receiving?'_

It's somewhat refreshing how blunt Danny is. He doesn't sugarcoat, though Stiles is pretty sure Danny pities him. That's likely the only reason they speak at all outside of class and lacrosse. That or his guilty conscious over years of standing by while Jackson made Stiles's life hell. Maybe both.

His fingers twitch against the keyboard for a second before he responds. _'Receiving. Does that make a difference? Is there a difference?'_

_'If you were giving, it means he's only in it for what he can get out of you. Since he finally reciprocated, then yeah, there's probably something there.'_

Oh. Well. He hesitates before asking the question that's burning a hole in his brain, because he knows he's standing at the edge of something fragile. For a brief second, Danny's given him a glimpse of hope and he doesn't want to do anything to jeopardize it. He also wants the truth. _'What does it mean if we've never kissed or held hands or any of the other basics?'_

_'Seriously? Has he at least taken you on a date? Bought you a drink or a shot or seven?'_

Stiles is pretty sure stakeouts and life threatening situations do not count as dates. _'...No? He saved my life twice though. That counts, right?'_

There's a long pause and he's not sure whether Danny's laughing himself sick or beating his head against the keyboard on the other end of the connection. _'Yes, that counts. Do I even want to know what you were doing that necessitated this guy saving your life? Twice?'_

_'You probably don't want to know.'_ Stiles briefly debates adding that once was at the hospital and the other was at the police station but that just opens up a whole line of questioning that Stiles doesn't want to go down. He can handle Danny being his go-to guy for gay advice. He doesn't need to burden him with the whole werewolf drama as well. It's the least he can do, considering Danny's being strangely nice to him.

_'He saved your life. He likes you.'_

Technically, Stiles has saved Derek a few times too, with the whole not chopping off his arm and setting Peter on fire. The last one may have been more self-gratifying than anything, though.

He leans back from the computer and lets the words sink in. Derek likes him. He likes Derek. If he didn't, he wouldn't be having gay existential crises in the first place.

_'Cool. Thanks. See you at school.'_

_'Stay out of dark alleys.'_

_'Ha ha.'_

_'Don't get in vans with strangers.'_

_'I'm not an idiot.'_

_'Wild animals are not your friends.'_

He logs off before Danny can continue. He falls into his bed, suddenly exhausted, and dreams of Derek.

* * *

A few minor concussions later, and he finds himself facing Derek again, in the school swimming pool of all places. He's acutely aware of Derek's presence, like they're two magnets pulling at each other, and he just wants to wrap himself in Derek but he knows it wouldn't go over well. A blowjob and hand job do not a relationship make, but his mouth keeps opening, wanting to ask, to get some sort of definition on what they are or why Derek keeps coming to him.

But there's the kanima currently trying to kill them, and just once he'd like to be out in public with Derek without someone or something trying to kill him. It doesn't bode well for their entirely non-existent, only in his head future dating prospects.

Spending two hours treading water while holding Derek up is like heaven and torture at the same time. They're pressed so close and he's so tired. His whole body aches, and not in the good way. He wants to be kissing Derek, wants to make out with him, and that's just a whole lot of awkward wants when the kanima is trying to kill him.

He doesn't perform well with an audience.

There's so many things they should talk about, while they're stuck here, but his mouth won't form the words. He wants to know what Derek feels about him, if anything. He wants to tell Derek how badly he's fallen for him. He wants so much but he's afraid he can't have it.

When he finally goes under, for that brief few seconds, it's somewhat of a relief. He can finally let go, stop hurting. It's so easy to let go.

Then Scott's there saving them and the kanima flees. After that it's back to normal. Derek leaves with Erica and Scott drives him home. He falls into bed exhausted, manages to sleep for a few hours before he slowly wakes, aware that he's not alone in his room.

He shouldn't be used to this, should be afraid, but he knows that it's Derek even before he opens his eyes. When he does, he feels the steel rod of tension that's been cramping his back all night flee. He relaxes against the sheets and stares back, making no move to get up.

Derek speaks first. "You saved my life."

"You saved mine first. It's a thing we do. Saving lives. Usually each other's." He's not sure if that's technically true or not, but in the more recent scheme of things it works out. Derek saved him at the police station. He saved Derek at the pool. They each saved the other a whole bunch of times before that. He doesn't feel the need to keep count.

"You could have let me drown."

He wets his lips. Derek's eyes flash red when he does. "Technically I did. Briefly. Sorry about that. Should have known Scott wouldn't answer his damn phone."

Derek pushes away from the windowsill then, stalking towards Stiles like he's on some sort of bizarre werewolf catwalk instead of in the middle of a sloppy teenager's bedroom. "You didn't let me drown."

He rolls over onto his back as Derek approaches, so he can keep his eyes on him. "Maybe there's a little trust between us after all. I mean, you trusted me enough to put your dick in my mouth. There has to be at least a little trust for that."

Derek stops beside Stiles's bed. "Maybe."

Then he's leaning down, leaning over Stiles. Stiles opens his mouth, not sure if he's going to blurt something stupid or scream but the sound doesn't make it out of him because Derek's kissing him. Derek is kissing him, with tongue and everything. It's his first kiss and the first thing he thinks about is that he can't wait to tell Danny. Then he's reaching, twisting his hands in Derek's shirt and pulling until Derek's on top of him.

There's a moment of awkwardness as Derek wriggles under the sheets. His hands go under Stiles's shirt and he shivers, not from cold but from want. Derek is warm, so warm. Stiles wants to press against him with his whole body and absorb his heat. He wants skin on skin contact.

They manage to get their clothes off without either of them getting a black eye and only minor bruising. Then Derek is settling naked between Stiles's spread thighs and it's amazing how well Derek fits there, like he belongs. Stiles lifts his legs, wrapping them around Derek's waist to trap him there. It's a hold Derek could easily break, but Derek doesn't want to. He pushes against Stiles's hips, rubbing their cocks together and Stiles moans, loud.

He's so glad his dad is working the night shift.

"Lube."

"What?" Stiles is distracted by the way Derek is pushing against his hips, hands gripping Stiles's thighs. One hand dips lower, circling his anus in a way that makes him jump and then instantly push back against it. "Oh."

He flails, groping at his bedside table until he gets the drawer open. He finds the bottle first. That's the easy part and then he searches around for a second before his fingers land on a small wrapped package. He pulls out a condom for good measure.

Derek takes the lube from him. "Werewolves can't get STDS," he says, "and I'm not going to get you pregnant."

"Oh." He considers it for a second before dropping the condom back in the drawer. It's probably a little late to be worrying about STDs considering he's already had Derek's cock in his mouth without any protection.

The drawer slams shut as Derek's slick finger presses inside of him. His arms search for something to hold onto and he ends up gripping Derek's shoulders way too tight.

"Breathe," Derek orders him, and he does, concentrating on the measured in and out of his breath as Derek's finger ventures deeper and deeper inside.

It's a strange sensation. A bit unpleasant. He thought anal sex was supposed to be good. Why else would guys do it so much? He's seen enough porn in his time – gay porn and straight – to know that it feels good. That or the actors are way better than he gave them credit for. Then a second finger slips in and he hisses. Maybe it's all a big con of the porn industry. Maybe it never feels good and porn is just tricking them into thinking it's something people actually do.

"Relax." Derek's voice is softer than Stiles is used to. It makes him relax, makes him want to melt into the bed. He's never heard Derek talk like that and he wants to hear more. He does. "That's it." Derek's free hand is on Stiles's stomach, rubbing soothing circles there and then up his sides, over his chest. "Relax for me."

Derek's fingers move easier inside of him. A third enters in, forcing him open wider. This is just the pregame, he knows. He's seen Derek's cock, felt it in his mouth. Part of him isn't even certain it will fit into him but he's already got three fingers inside of him. He wants Derek in him, even if it hurts, because he wants Derek to want him. He wants to give Derek pleasure, the kind of pleasure he's seen on porn videos. He knows fucking feels good, even if he's never done it himself. He wants to give Derek that.

Derek leans down, kissing him again. Stiles likes kissing. He can put up with the ache in his ass, the sharp sting of pain as he's stretched wider and wider, as long as he gets more kisses. A hand on his cock would be nice too, but he's not pressing his luck.

He almost sighs with relief when Derek's fingers pull out. His ass stings and sitting tomorrow is going to be all kinds of awkward. Good thing he doesn't have school tomorrow.

The head of Derek's cock presses against him and he knows the moment he goes tense by the way Derek's hands are suddenly on him, gentle and soothing and entirely un-Derek-like. It works, possibly more because of how strange it is than anything else. He groans as Derek pushes in. His head falls back against his pillow and his fingers dig into Derek's skin, leaving scratches that probably heal seconds after they're made.

He can't help it. It hurts, a lot, like he's being ripped apart to make room for something new inside of him, something impossibly large. It's just Derek. He's not that big. Well, he's big, but not as big as he feels right now.

Stiles is panting when Derek suddenly stills and it takes him a moment to realize this is it, Derek is buried in him, all the way. His muscles ache from treading water for two hours. His thighs tremble against Derek, stilling only after Derek runs his hands over them, soothing the tremors away. Stiles breathes, slowly peeling himself off of the proverbial ceiling until he's a little looser, a little calmer.

Then Derek moves and all that calm goes right out the window Derek came in through. It hurts but at the same time, beneath the pain, it feels so damn good. Derek's wrapped around him, or maybe he's wrapped around Derek, all he knows is that they're pressed impossibly close and Derek is warm. Derek's body weighs him down, holding him trapped while Derek slowly thrusts into him.

Stiles is loud. Each movement, no matter how tiny, wrings strange new sounds from him. His breath hitches. He gasps when Derek drags his blunt nails up Stiles's thigh. He moans each time Derek starts the slow push inside.

He expected sex with Derek to be as brutal as everything else with Derek is. He expects pain, which sure there's some but he expected more. He expected bruises and scratches and bite marks. He expected to be totally wrecked by it, in a physical sense rather than the emotional wreck he is now.

Through it all, Derek whispers to him, muttering encouragement, saying things like "yes, that's it" and "I've got you". He believes it. He's entrusting himself to Derek, all of him, even the most fragile parts. He knows he shouldn't. He's going to get his heart broken, but it's too late now. Even before they'd started fucking, it'd been too late.

Derek's hand slides between them and it's nothing like last time, when Derek's hand had been confined by Stiles's jeans. He has a full range of motion now, limited by the press of their bodies, but it's enough to let his hand close around Stiles in a warm grip. Derek's hand twists. His thumb rubs over the head and it's good, so good that he loses himself for a moment.

Then Derek thrusts in, a bit harder, a bit faster, and there's something about it that makes Stiles's brain short circuit. He shouts something, he's not sure what. Nonsense, likely. He's incapable of words because now he gets it. Derek does it again and Stiles nearly comes, has to bite his lip to hold it back but the sounds still make it out of his mouth obscenely loud in the otherwise quiet room.

"Yes," Derek says like he's won a prize. His hips don't stop and Stiles doesn't want them to, not ever. He wants to stay like this with Derek inside of him for ages. He wants to skip school and just do this all day, but he can't.

He comes earlier than he wants to, earlier than he'd expected to. He can't help himself. He shouts, loud enough that he probably woke at least one of his neighbors. Derek chuckles, but it's a pleased kind of chuckle, not like he's making fun of Stiles and that's a pleasant change. Derek doesn't stop moving. Stiles doesn't want him too, even though his legs ache from the strain of keeping them up.

Each push drives him slowly insane. He can feel himself becoming slowly undone. He's not in his right state of mind, shouldn't be making any life-changing decisions, but that doesn't stop him from turning his head to the side, offering Derek his neck. He knows what Derek's been doing, collecting a ragtag bunch of socially awkward outcastes to form his new pack and if anyone fits that description, it's Stiles.

He'd said no to Peter, but that was because Peter was a creepy old man with pseudo-pedophile vibes. That didn't mean he doesn't want it, deep down. He's so tired of being afraid all the time. He's tired of being weak.

Derek's teeth close over his neck, biting down. Derek comes with a growl and Stiles is so lost in the moment, in the feeling of Derek losing control and jerking into him, that it takes him a while to realize that the teeth on his neck are blunt.

Derek misreads the look of surprise on Stiles's face, but it's okay because he smiles a strange, soft smile and kisses Stiles slowly. They stay like that, bodies pressed together and Stiles tells himself he's not disappointed. He has Derek's warmth and his body holding him down and maybe even a small bit of his affection.

He tells himself it's enough.

He can't tell if he's lying.

* * *

He sees Derek a lot after that. More than he should, what with Derek's busy schedule training his new pack and the kanima and Gerard's hunters. Stiles learns a little bit of magic. Scott nearly gets killed, again. Somehow, in between all of that Derek still finds time to sneak into Stiles's room multiple times a week and make Stiles forget all about the fact that the people in Derek's pack regularly threaten him with bodily harm.

"You stink." Derek's voice is muffled against Stiles's neck. He follows the words with his teeth, nipping lightly at Stiles's skin in a way that makes him twitch and shudder.

It's not like they're lovers. Derek is not his boyfriend, and yeah, Stiles may be a bit in love, but he knows the feeling is not mutual. He can read it in every line of Derek's body, in the way he never approaches unless they're alone, and only then for sex. No one knows. He's pretty sure Erica wouldn't have thrown him in a dumpster if she did. There would have been at least one snide comment.

"Sorry?" Stiles says, for lack of anything better to say. "From the rave?"

Derek grunts in agreement. Stiles clutches tighter. He's still wound up, still high on adrenaline and he needs Derek more than he needs anything else, more than he needs to breathe or eat or sleep. Derek's touch has been soft and gentle, but right now, Stiles needs more. He needs a reminder that they're still alive, all safe and secure.

Stiles has always been a fast learner and he has put those skills to good use memorizing everything that turns Derek on. He knows how much Derek likes it when Stiles drags his nails down Derek's back, creating red welts that are gone by the time they're done. He knows how to get Derek hard and aching for it in under a minute just by using his mouth.

They still go soft and slow most of the time but by now Stiles is more used to sex and Derek knows he won't break, so they can try other things too. Stiles ended up with finger shaped bruises on his hips for a week after the first time he rode Derek, bouncing on top of Derek's cock while Derek's hands held him steady. He sent pictures to Marlene, the witty drag queen he'd met the night the kanima went after Danny.

He considers that now, but that's not what he wants. He wants Derek in control. He wants Derek to take him, wanton and free to do what he wants.

Stiles pulls his lips away and pushes gently at Derek's chest until he has room to roll over and hold himself up and away from the mattress. He looks over his shoulder at Derek's wide eyes and faint lascivious grin. "Please?"

Derek doesn't need to be asked twice. He surges forward, pressing himself against Stiles's back, his hard dick sliding easily into the space between Stiles's legs. Derek rolls his hips, pushing against Stiles and Stiles doesn't try to hold back his moan. Derek likes it when he's loud, when his voice goes hoarse and he can't form real words.

The nails on Stiles's hips go sharp, pricking against his skin as Derek wolfs out, unable to help himself as he pushes in, burying his dick in the welcoming warmth of Stiles's body. Stiles moans again. He can't help that he likes it when Derek wolfs out. Stiles knows he's fucked in the brain, knows he's a freak like Jackson always said he was, because he twists, turns as best he can to go after Derek's wolf face, like he does every time, heedless of the very sharp teeth guarding the mouth he sticks his tongue in.

Derek fucks him hard, fingers bruising, and Stiles is glad it's a Friday because there's no way he's sitting down tomorrow, not after this. One of Derek's hands slides into his hair, gripping the short strands that Stiles has been letting grow longer because it gives Derek something to hold onto. Derek's mouth crashes into his, then pulls away, then back again, like the waves of the ocean. Derek surges forward into another kiss, pulled in by the needy sounds that Stiles makes while Derek fucks him, melting his brain a little more with each thrust.

Then Derek freezes, his whole body stilling, no longer thrusting into Stiles. It takes Stiles's brain a second to form words as he pulls himself out of a pit of pleasure.

"What's wrong?" Stiles says, looking back over his shoulder a bit awkwardly.

Derek licks his lips. His teeth are red. He's no longer wolfed out. "You're bleeding."

"Oh." He frowns. He can barely feel it but yep, there's a copper tang on his tongue and a slight pain on the side of his mouth. "I'm fine." He hesitates, forces the words out even though he doesn't want to. "Do you... do you want to stop?"

Derek picks up on his reluctance – he's not an idiot and Derek's cock is currently buried in Stiles's ass – but he doesn't stop. He moves slowly, nothing like the pounding pace they'd had before but still good, still exactly what Stiles needs. Stiles sighs as he comes and rests his head on his pillow, back sloped as Derek's thrusts slow to a stop.

He never wants to let Derek go. He will fight to keep this if he has to, even if it means fighting his dad and the whole world.

He's so far gone in love with Derek that it's pitiful.

* * *

He can't even find the cut the next morning so he doesn't worry about it. He's had worse scratches before.

He makes it through half the day, until his dad's car pulls into the driveway and the breaks screech loud enough that his hands fly to his ears. He freezes there and slowly lowers his hands, listening for his dad's heartbeat, following it as his dad enters the house, putters around in the kitchen, and then heads upstairs. His head turns at the exact same time as his dad opens the door, smiling tiredly.

"Good night, kid."

Stiles forces a smile, even though he's freaking out internally. "Sleep well."

His dad waves then closes Stiles's door again. He waits until his dad lays down and Stiles hears – he freaking hears it, from his bedroom – his breathing even. Slowly, Stiles stands and walks over to his bed, flopping face down and then screaming into his pillow.

There's a phrase about being careful of what you wish for. Right now, all he can think about is that night, what feels like ages ago but was barely a month ago, when he offered his neck to Derek and Derek hadn't bitten him. He finds it ironic that Derek bit him without realizing it and now that it's happened, now that it's done and over with, he had no idea what to do besides quietly freak out so that he doesn't wake up his dad.

Shit. His dad.

Stiles rolls over onto his back and stares very hard at his ceiling trying not to have a panic attack. He's not very successful. His chest tightens and he closes his eyes on a low whimper.

He needs a plan. He needs to think.

Stiles pushes himself upright and drops his head between his knees. Think. He needs to think.

So he's a werewolf now. There's a full moon coming up on Wednesday, which also happens to be the same day as Lydia's birthday party. He should totally not go but at the same time he feels obligated. It's Lydia and he has a suspicious feeling that not many people from school are going to show, not with the whole post-Peter insanity.

All of his old arguments with Scott play back through his head and he feels like such a fucking hypocrite now, because he knows he's going to go, no matter what. It's a stupidly bad idea, but, really, how many of his ideas aren't? He's had years of practice controlling his rage, thanks to massive amounts of forced therapy after his mom died.

He can do this.

He's not alone. He has help. He has Scott and Allison and Derek.

Derek.

He wonders if Derek knows already, if he can feel the addition to his pack. The fact that Derek is not at his window right now suggests otherwise. He should tell him. He should go right now, but fear holds him still.

Derek didn't want to turn him. Part of him wonders if he'll turn out wrong, like Jackson did but there's no black goo oozing out of him. He feels fine, other than the tight twist of emotions battering his insides.

He can't see Derek right now. He can't handle the thought of being rejected, of being turned away from Derek's pack. Soon, he'll go to him. He has to, at least by the full moon, unless he wants to chain himself up in his room. That's a few days away. He has time to think and plan still.

He has time.

* * *

Stiles expects Scott to smell the change on him the instant he walks in the school. He doesn't. Scott's attention is on Allison, and for once Stiles is relieved to be ignored.

Danny drops his tray onto the lunch table across from Stiles and gives him a piercing stare. "What's wrong?"

Stiles flinches. He stares down at his apple, clutched tightly in his hands. If he squeezed any tighter he'd probably crush it, sending apple bits and juice flying everywhere. He sets it down before he can.

"It's your guy, isn't it?"

Danny has always been remarkably perceptive. It's what Stiles likes the most about him, because Stiles can always count on Danny to be up to speed.

"Yeah," he admits hesitantly. He looks around for Scott but Scott's in line with Allison and distracted by his conversation with her. Stiles leans across the table. "What do you do if things are going a bit fast? Like, say, something happened, and now you and this guy are in way serious, and you're all on board but you're not sure if he is?"

Danny frowns. "How did it get serious without him realizing?"

Stiles waves his hands in the air. "That's not important. Just go with it. So things are major serious, like two steps down from 'we're getting married' and he doesn't, like, know."

"I have no clue what you're even talking about."

Stiles sighs. He props his elbows on the tables and drops his face in his hands. "Neither do I."

"You're in love with him?" He's not sure if the tone in Danny's voice is pitying or something else.

Stiles nods slowly.

"But he's not in love with you?"

Stiles hesitates and then nods again.

"And you're sure? Like, have you talked to him about this?"

Stiles sighs and lifts his head. "No. I mean, how do you talk about something like that, something big? I mean, what if he's just done with me then? What if he loses it?"

Danny raises an eyebrow. "You really think he will?"

Stiles shrugs. "I don't know. Maybe. That's the problem. I have no fucking clue how he'll react."

"There's only one way to find out."

Stiles stares at him for a moment. His shoulders slump in defeat and he sighs. "Yeah." There's only one way he can find out, and really, Derek deserves to know.

* * *

He can feel the moon's pull as soon as night falls. It's like a tug on his heart, pulling him away from his house. His dad is working the night shift, thank God, so Stiles doesn't even have to try to be sneaky as he starts the Jeep and drives into the city. He knows where Derek and his pack are hiding out, but even if he didn't, he can feel it anyways, his instincts pulling him closer and closer.

He wonders if this is how Scott felt when he first turned, always being tugged towards Peter, but he doesn't remember Scott describing anything like that, aside from the night Peter trapped them all in the school at night. No, this is different and he knows it. He feels different.

He hasn't had the rage issues Scott did, no uncontrolled wolfing out. He's only done it once, just to make sure he could, just to know that it was real and he wasn't imagining it all.

He parks next to Derek's Camaro and hops out, feeling a mixture of excitement and dread inside of him as he pushes open the warehouse doors. His steps echo as he descends the stairs. Inside the train car, he can see Erica, Isaac, and Boyd being locked down with heavy chains. He wonders if Derek has a spare set that Stiles can use.

All three Betas look up at once, their eyes fixing on him, glowing yellow. Derek turns a second later, his expression confused. "Stiles?" The word barely makes it out of his mouth before their eyes meet and Derek's voice cuts off with a gasp.

Stiles can feel his eyes glowing, can feel his face shifting instinctively, claws lengthening. He launches himself at Derek at the same time as Derek rushes towards him. They crash together somewhere in the middle, bodies twisting, colliding in a mad rush. Stiles wraps his limbs around Derek's chest, like he's so used to but there's a new edge to it now, a new franticness that he can't control.

Their kisses are biting, full of passion and violence. They tumble together, rolling on the hard cement floor until Derek picks him up, throwing him into another room with enough force that he skids across the floor and then Derek is following after, slamming the metal door shut behind him. Stiles feels trapped for a moment, but Derek is there and so is Derek's mattress.

He pounces, forcing Derek down and then howling as Derek turns them, rolling them over and taking Stiles from behind. Derek's claws dig into his skin but it's only a minor irritation, the hurt fading fast as the wounds heal. Derek is inside of him and Stiles can't do anything but rut back, shoving Derek in harder, faster. He's making Derek claim him, more violently than anything they've ever done before.

Derek's full wolf, the ridges of his morphed face rubbing against Stiles's shoulder as he ruts into him. Neither of them last long. The moon adds a sharp edge to their lovemaking and the knowledge that Derek can't hurt him wipes away all hesitation.

Derek howls as he comes, growing thicker inside of Stiles in a way that's never happened before. He can feel Derek's cock stretching inside of him, holding them together. Something shifts inside of Stiles then, something deep and primal and he feels like everything is changing, every part of him, down to his very core.

Then Derek's howl cuts off as he sinks his teeth, his sharp wolf teeth into Stiles's neck, and it's Stiles's turn to howl then. It feels so right, like he's finally complete.

His mind goes blank then, and he passes out with Derek still stuck inside of him.

* * *

Derek wakes slowly. Stiles stares down at his hands, dreading the confrontation to come. He knows the others are awake. He can hear them shifting around in the train car, still stuck in their shackles, waiting for Derek to release them. He thinks about doing it himself but he doesn't know how, not without possibly hurting them in the process.

Derek groans as he rolls over, his eyes opening slowly to stare at Stiles in sleepy confusion. "Stiles? What-" Realization makes his eyes widen and Derek bolts upright. His hands cups Stiles's face, soft and gentle like Stiles is something breakable which is far, far from what Stiles is now. "Who did this to you?"

Stiles closes his eyes. His breath stutters and he can't find his voice. He's usually able to fill the silence with more words than needed but they all abandon him now.

He can hear Derek inhale deeply. "You smell..."

"...like you?" Stiles opens his eyes then, curious of what he'll see.

There's no disgust there, not like he'd feared, only confusion that's slowly being replaced by dawning comprehension. "I did this? But how? I didn't bite you, not until last night."

"My tongue."

Derek stares at him. His thumb rubs against Stiles's cheek. "I'm so sorry."

"I'm not." He's surprised to find he means it. It's not the way he would have wanted to have been turned, but there's no denying that he wanted it. "Are you? Really?"

Derek arches an eyebrow. Stiles wants to lick it. "To have you as pack? Never." He leans in, brushing their noses together. "You're everything I want, no matter what you are. To have you as part of my pack, to make you mine? I never imagined I could have something so perfect."

Stiles finally lets the smile that's been threatening break onto his lips. He tips forward, bumping his head into Derek's. Derek smiles back and that moment, when they're both together, in sync, it feels perfect.

Then the perfect moment is shattered as the door to the warehouse bangs open. Both Stiles and Derek raise their heads, tracking the sound. Derek growls low in his throat, knowing instantly who it is but it takes Stiles longer. He's not used to tracking scents yet, but he knows it's someone familiar.

His shirt is in tatters but his jeans are mostly alright, if a little torn around the hem. He holds them closed with one hand as he follows his topless Alpha out of Derek's room. Scott stops on the stairs, his eyes flaring yellow the second he sees Stiles. Then his nostrils flare and if anything, he seems to get even angrier.

"You turned him?"

Scott lunges forward, but Stiles gets there first, dropping his pants in favor of putting himself between Scott and Derek. At least his boxers made it out intact. "Scott, it's not what you think."

He can feel Derek move behind him, walking calmly into the train car to unleash the others. Their eyes are on him, while Scott tracks Derek's movements. "He bit you."

Scott starts to take a step past him, but Stiles stops him with a hand on his chest. "It was an accident."

Scott snorts. It's an ugly sound. Stiles flinches, can almost imagine the sound is about him, about how he should never have been turned, isn't worth it, but he knows Scott doesn't mean it that way. It still hurts a little. "How do you accidentally turn someone? Did he trip and fall on you with his teeth?"

There are a lot of answers Stiles could give, a lot of ways he could play it polite and politically correct. He doesn't want to. "We were having sex. Teeth happened. He didn't even know until last night."

Scott looks at him then, really looks at him. "Derek didn't know he turned you?"

Stiles shakes his head. He can hear Erica, Boyd, and Isaac walking out of the train car, forming a defensive line behind him. It isn't needed, but he appreciates the sentiment.

"How long?"

How long have you been a werewolf, is what Scott means. How long has Stiles been something else and Scott didn't even notice, is what he should be concerned about. "Friday. He bit me Friday."

"And the sex part?"

Stiles winces. He glances once at Derek, who's lingering in the door to the train, not moving any closer. He should have told Scott ages ago. Of all the ways to find out, this is probably the worst.

He holds out his hand to Derek and Derek slowly walks over to take it. His grip is strong and warm. It feels right, like they're a united front. Even if he loses Scott because of this, at least he has Derek. "Shortly before we took down Peter."

Erica whistles appreciatively, which only makes Stiles even more aware of the fact that he's having this whole reveal-fest in his boxers.

The look Scott gives him is positively betrayed. "What? That long? And you didn't think to tell me?"

Derek squeezes Stiles's hand and it feels like Stiles is being forced to choose sides. He doesn't want to, but it's a choice that he'd already made. "I didn't think you'd understand."

Scott frowns then. His face hardens and his hands curl into fists at his side. "You mean, you didn't think I'd approve."

Stiles shrugs. It's as much of an admission as Scott is going to get.

"I don't, by the way. He tried to kill us."

"Technically so have you, twice. I forgave you. In fact, the only one who hasn't tried to kill me is Boyd, which is why he's my favorite." Beside him, Derek snorts as he tries to hold back a laugh. Stiles glances back over at his shoulder and finds a small, proud smile on Boyd's face while the other two just look amused. Erica is also possibly checking out Stiles's ass.

Scott's mouth flaps. "But he's... I mean..."

Stiles sighs and takes a step forward, then another until he's close enough to wrap his arms around Scott. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I should have. But he's very important to me. He makes me happy."

Scott pulls away, a confused look on his face, like he can't believe the words Stiles is saying. It hurts, but not as much as the way Scott shakes his head as he backs away. He runs out of the warehouse without another word.

Derek's hand lands heavily on Stiles's shoulder, like a firm weight anchoring him down. "He'll get over it."

Stiles turns, moving into Derek's embrace. He lets out a small sigh against Derek's chest. "I know he will." That doesn't make it hurt any less in the meantime.

* * *

The next day puts Stiles's mini-fight with Scott into perspective. They all get poisoned at Lydia's party and start seeing things. Matt uses Jackson the kanima to kill everyone in the police department and tries to go after Stiles's dad. He's seconds from wolfing out right there in front of his dad when the kanima paralyzes both him and Derek, leaving them in a useless pile as Matt taunts Scott.

Then there's the whole cleanup afterwards and Matt is found dead and Gerard Argent is a creepy old fuck who knocks Stiles out and drops him in a basement that happens to contain Erica and Boyd. For a second, he's glad because he thought they'd left and Derek was an idiot to let them go, but instead they're just trapped.

He reaches for their bonds, only to be hit by a painful jolt the second his fingers touch it. He starts to wolf out because this is his pack, even if they don't see that yet, and he needs to help them, but then Gerard and his hunter buddies are descending the stairs.

"Well, well, well. This is quite the surprise. Here I thought I'd only caught two werewolves and it turns out there's three."

Stiles takes a hesitant step back, away from them but also towards the controls to the machine pumping electricity into Erica and Boyd's bonds. He thinks briefly of trying to fight his way out of here, but even with the improved strength and reflexes, they're no good because he doesn't know how to use them. He's only been a werewolf a few weeks, and even with Derek trying to teach him, he's horrible at fighting. There's no way he's making his way out of the basement alone.

If Erica and Boyd were free, however, then they might have a chance.

"Shoot him," Gerard orders, before Stiles has even taken a second step towards the machine.

He goes down screaming as a bullet pierces his kneecap. Gerard walks calmly towards him as Stiles writhes on the floor. He grabs Stiles by the chin, holding his head steady and staring into Stiles's eyes. He must see something there, something important, because a wicked grin slides across his face then.

"Keep him there." Two men with guns keep watch over him, smiling as the wolfsbane in the bullet spreads into Stiles's bloodstream. He screams. It feels like he's being burned from the inside out and he understands now why Derek was so insistent that Stiles chop of his arm. Stiles would chop of his leg in a heartbeat if it meant the pain would go away.

Gerard rummages in the cabinets behind him. Metal clanks against metal and then Gerard finds what he wants. He has a strip of paper in a little petri dish, which he sets on the cement floor next to Stiles. Then he grabs Stiles's arm, pushing his sleeve up enough to bare his forearm.

Stiles tries to pull away as Gerard pulls a knife from his pocket but the wolfsbane makes him weak, too weak to do anything but tug ineffectually as Gerard slices open his arm, letting a bit of blood pour into the dish before pulling it away. The strip changes color as soon as the blood touches it, turning blue at first and then darkening into a deep green.

Gerard laughs like he's won the fucking lottery. He tosses the dish in the trash and stands. "Neutralize the wolfsbane and sedate him. We're going for a ride."

Stiles stares after Gerard's retreating form. He wonders what was on that paper that has Gerard so pleased.

"What about those two?" One of the hunters asks, and Stiles closes his eyes, praying to every god that will listen that Gerard doesn't say 'kill them'.

"Leave them," Gerard says. "We don't need them anymore."

There's a loud hiss as one of the hunters lights the wolfsbane from a bullet and then grinds it harshly into Stiles's wound. He screams, but not for long as a needle pierces his neck. His eyes find Erica's as the world goes fuzzy. Her eyes plead with him, but he's not sure if it's to help them or to not let himself be taken.

Either way, he has no choice as darkness pulls him under.

* * *

Derek blames the aftermath of the fight with Gerard for not noticing. His pack was leaving him. Erica and Boyd were gone, off to parts unknown, and Isaac was slowly drifting towards Scott. He knows Scott will be an alpha. It's just a matter of time, and when he does become one, Isaac is going to be his beta.

But his pack isn't quite gone yet. Jackson heals from his wounds, turning from kanima into werewolf and bringing Lydia with him as their new human mascot. That thought leads him to Stiles and his eyes search the warehouse. Chris and Alison are leaving, searching after Gerard but he'd disappeared sometime during the fight. Derek still isn't sure what Gerard's end game is beyond trying to kill them all.

"Where's Stiles?" He doesn't realize he says it out loud until all the others turn to look at him.

Scott frowns. He still hasn't reconciled with Stiles, which has been the source of much angst on Stiles's part. "I think we have bigger things to worry about. Gerard was planning to get you to bite him and he didn't. Something's up."

Derek raises a pointed eyebrow, momentarily forgetting about Stiles as his anger rises and his eyes flash red. Isaac takes a step to the side, away from Scott and towards Derek. "And you know this how?"

Scott shrugs. "He told me. He wanted me to help him. I had a plan."

Isaac's moving even further away from Scott, drifting towards Derek's side. He can hear Jackson come up behind him, flanking him in an instinctive show of support. Scott may have the potential to be an Alpha, but he's not one yet.

"You didn't think to share this information because...?"

Scott shifts on his feet. He at least looks slightly guilty, but that doesn't help temper Derek's anger. He needs Stiles here to calm him and as soon as they're done with this conversation, he's going to go find his errant boyfriend.

"I thought it would be more convincing if you didn't know. So you'd be convincingly surprised. It wouldn't have worked. The bite would have stopped him. Deaton and I switched out his meds for mountain ash."

Derek blinks. That's actually a pretty clever plan. He knows Stiles wasn't behind it, because Stiles hasn't talked to Scott since that night in the warehouse which means Scott came up with it all on his own.

Scott's going to make an impressive alpha.

Peter steps out of the shadows where he'd been lurking. He'd been so quiet that Derek had forgotten he was even there. "So if Gerard was planning to have Derek turn him, and he didn't even try, that begs the question of what he has up his sleeve that's even better than an Alpha's bite?"

The warehouse door bangs open and a disheveled-looking Erica and Boyd run in. They look hurt but healing, but there was something in their eyes that makes Derek worry. "Gerard has Stiles."

"Ah," Peter says. "That answers that question."

Derek loses the rest of the conversation as he howls in fury.

* * *

Stiles wakes in an unfamiliar room. His entire body hurts, like he'd been thrown down a flight of stairs. He pushes himself off the mattress and stares at the wood walls that surround him. If he'd had to guess, he'd say a wood cabin. He can smell pine trees and fresh water nearby. There are birds chirping nearby.

The room he's in has a door and a window. The window is small and high up but he tries it first. His hand hits something invisible before he can even get there and he looks down at the circle of mountain ash lining the walls of the room. It blends in so well with the wood that he can barely tell it's there. He follows the line with his eyes, all the way around to the door where the black dust is slightly more obvious.

He's trapped in a cabin in the woods, and he has no idea why. At least he's alive, which is possibly more than he can say for Erica and Boyd at the moment. He hopes, somehow, they got out okay. He hopes they told Derek what happened and that they're all out looking for him, rushing to save him.

The light from the window fades into dusk and then darkness without any wolves howling. He doesn't give up hope.

* * *

"We have to tell him," Scott says, his eyes making the attempt to be stern but falling somewhere short.

"No, we don't. We've got this handled." They don't, but Derek isn't going to admit that. He can't admit that. He's got a full pack now but somehow even that isn't enough to find out where Gerard has taken Stiles.

"Stiles has been missing for a week. His dad is freaking out. He needs to know."

"No."

"He might be able to help. If he knew about Gerard, he could look into him. We need his help as much as he's going to need ours."

Derek grits his teeth. As much as he hates to admit it, they need the help. "Fine. But we do it my way."

Scott gives Derek a bitch-please face. "Like you know any way."

* * *

The sheriff gives Derek a suspicious look as he opens the door. His eyes narrow as his gaze moves past Derek to Scott. "Can I help you boys?"

"We need to talk. It's about Stiles."

The sheriff's face takes on an angry cast. Angrier, technically, since he wasn't exactly happy to see Derek. "If you've been holding something back-"

"Inside."

The sheriff steps aside but he doesn't look happy about it. He shuts the door a little too hard and crosses his arms. "Talk."

"Gerard Argent has him."

"Why the hell would the school principle kidnap my son?"

"Werewolves."

The sheriff opens his mouth, but Scott interrupts him. "He's not lying. We can prove it, just... don't shoot, okay?"

The sheriff's frown deepens. "Alright."

They both shift. The sheriff takes a step back, but to his credit, he doesn't reach for his gun. "Okay..." He stares at them both, eyes focused as they shift back. "Okay. So werewolves exist. What does Argent have to do with werewolves? Is he one?"

Derek shakes his head. "His family are all werewolf hunters. They've been killing werewolves for generations."

Comprehension dawns on the sheriff's face. "So the Hale fire was because you're from a family of werewolves."

"Not all of them were, but yes."

"And Stiles is involved because he's a werewolf?"

Derek opens his mouth, not sure what he's going to say but Scott grips his arm tight and beats him to it.

"Yes. He took Stiles and we haven't been able to find them. We think Gerard left town."

"I'm guessing 'we' means more than just you two. Who else?"

Scott gives him an earnest look and Derek sighs. "Isaac Lahey, Vernon Boyd, Erica Reyes, Peter Hale, Jackson Whittemore, and Lydia Martin."

"Though Lydia's not a werewolf," Scott adds.

The sheriff frowns. "I thought Peter was dead."

"He got better," Scott says. It sounds like some kind of reference Derek doesn't get.

They stand in the middle of the hall for a moment while the sheriff processes that. "Okay. So. Werewolves. My son is a werewolf, and he was kidnapped because...?"

Derek shuffles on his feet. "Because he's my mate."

The sheriff's hand does reach for his pistol then. "Mate? As in..."

"As in, I'm dating your son."

The sheriff visibly restrains himself. "You... We are having a talk about that. A long one. Once Stiles is back and I can yell at you both at the same time." He scrubs a hand over his face. "So what's so special about being your... 'mate'... that he had to kidnap Stiles?"

Derek exchanges a look with Scott. "We don't know."

"Gerard had cancer," Scott explains. "Derek's an Alpha, which means he's the only one who can bite someone and turn them into a werewolf." The sheriff does not miss the significance of that statement. "He was going to force Derek to bite and turn him. We had a plan for that. But then he took Stiles right after the lacrosse game and just left town."

The sheriff turns then. "Sit. Both of you. I'm getting my laptop and we're finding my son."

They have no choice but to obey.

* * *

They keep moving him. Stiles has been in four different houses in he has no idea how many days. No, not days. It's been weeks since he was kidnapped and he still has no idea why.

They haven't tried to torture him for information. They haven't spoken to him at all, which is torture enough on his own. Stiles is not built to be on his own. He needs conversation. He needs stimulation. If it weren't for enhanced werewolf hearing, he would have gone insane by now.

His rooms are always the same – just a mattress on the floor, a bucket with a lid that serves as his toilet, and a ring of ash. He's tried every possible way to escape, but it's no use. At least they feed him. Healthy food, too. The kind he'd feed his dad, though without the occasional hidden sedatives.

The inactivity is starting to make him fat. His stomach is swollen and he starts to exercise every morning and evening. It's not like he has anything better to do. He settles into the kind of exercise routine that would make Derek proud, but it doesn't make any difference.

His stomach grows.

He keeps pushing at the ash with his Spark, so used to nothing happening that he's surprised when it finally does. The line of ash parts and he's out the door in seconds. He makes it two steps before a round in the shoulder brings him down howling.

"Careful. We need them both alive," Gerard barks and Stiles opens his eyes wide, searching for another prisoner, some hope that he's not alone in this. There isn't anyone.

He looks down as Gerard sticks his arm with a needle. The wolfsbane in the bullet makes his head fuzzy. "What..."

"Did you know there's a fourth color that a werewolf's eyes can be?" Gerard says, seemingly at random. "You don't see it often, the orange eyes. Almost never outside of an entire pack of protectors. Do you know what orange eyes mean, Stiles? Do you know what your own eyes mean?"

He has no idea what Gerard is rambling about. He shifts his head slightly, a tiny shake.

"Orange eyes only happen when a werewolf is pregnant with her Alpha's child. When she – or in your case, he – is carrying an Alpha inside them."

Stiles eyes go wide and suddenly his growing stomach makes sense. Actually, no, it makes no sense at all. He's a guy. He shouldn't be able to get pregnant, but he shouldn't be a werewolf either so he can't really say much about what should and shouldn't be possible.

As his eyes drift shut, he can't help but think that he's in a whole lot of trouble.

* * *

The semester ends with an Amber alert on Stiles and a warrant out for Gerard Argent. Neither help. The sheriff is slowly unravelling – John, the sheriff tells Derek one late night as they're pouring over maps. He's more than Derek expected, both like and unlike Stiles, and without Stiles he's slowly unravelling.

So is Derek, though he tries not to let it show. He's over at the sheriff, no, John's house almost as much as he is with his pack because it still has Stiles's scent. His bed still has their scent.

He thinks John needs someone around. Scott is there too, sometimes, and Melissa joins them as Stiles's absence drags out longer. Derek takes up the role Stiles would have had, bringing in healthy food for the sheriff to eat.

The first time he brings John lunch at the stations, there are raised eyebrows all over the building, but it doesn't matter because of the slight release of tension in John's shoulders as Derek walks in and hands him a sandwich and side salad.

They talk about a lot of things. About Stiles and what Derek's intentions are. About how they should have waited until Stiles was legal but that cat was out of the bag now and John has bigger concerns. About how they both want Stiles back.

Derek lets slip that he's thinking about proposing, when they get Stiles back, and how much he wants a real family back. The look John gives his is both incredulous and so sympathetic it makes Derek's chest hurt.

Scott's the one who suggests bringing in the Argents, after the police resources fail to turn up anything useful on Gerard. At least Chris can give them somewhere to start.

It's surprisingly easy to work with Chris and Allison, even after all that's happened between them. The Argents are just as invested in catching Gerard, who apparently has gone rogue from his entire family like some sort of terrorist splinter cell. Allison is also committed to finding Stiles and her father follows where she leads.

John makes an amazing mediator between the two groups. He's got the police background to work with Chris, he knows Allison from her being around Stiles, and he's gotten attached to Derek in a way that neither of them had expected. He's not a replacement father, but he's something close, and Derek can't help but think what it will be like when Stiles is back.

He'll have a family again.

* * *

It takes him a week to get used to the idea of being pregnant. He's fortunately not hit the morning sickness phase, and he's hoping he never does, though getting up all the time to pee in a bucket is more awkward than he expected. He wishes he had his phone or his laptop so he could look up pregnancy, read all about it and prepare for what he has no choice over.

Killing himself or the baby isn't an option, never would have been, which means they're stuck together, literally.

He wonders if it's a boy or a girl. He makes lists of names in his head, promises not to punish his child with a name as esoteric as his own. He's fond of John or Jane. Something nice and simple. He wonders if naming the kid after one of the deceased Hales would be considered reverent or rude.

He wants Derek. He wants his father. He wants to talk to Scott and Danny, to have anyone to help him deal with this but he doesn't have anyone here.

He talks to the baby instead. In a way, it's nice knowing he's not entirely alone, even if his only company is inside his stomach. Still, it gives him someone to talk to.

He tells the baby about his mother and father. He tells it about Scott. Most of all, he tells the baby about Derek, his other father, and how madly in love with him Stiles is. He's in love enough that he's skipped the whole freak-out about carrying Derek's child. Mostly. There may have been a little freaking but he kept it to the minimum.

He tells the baby of his dreams of having a family of Derek. Of living together, raising their kid together.

He has a lot of time to think about what having a child will mean for his last year of school and college beyond that. He could go somewhere local, like Scott and Derek's pack had been planning, or he could take classes online. He might be able to do a mix of both.

He wonders what kind of father Derek will be. He doesn't let himself even think of whether or not Derek will want the kid. It'll come at a surprise, but by now Stiles knows Derek well enough to know how much Derek wants a family. The world needs more Hales and he's strangely pleased to be able to provide that.

He dreams about rebuilding the Hale pack, of rebuilding the house and making one big pack home. It would be awesome.

The days pass and his stomach gets larger.

* * *

Derek raises an eyebrow as Danny follows Scott into the house. He remembers him from the whole Miguel incident that started the whole thing with Stiles off.

Danny holds out a hand. "Derek, right?"

Derek can't help the way his lips quirk into a grin. Good to know they hadn't actually been fooling anyone with that stunt. He takes Danny's hand in a firm shake. "Yeah."

"I want to help." He shoots a quick, apologizing look at Jackson. "Scott explained about the whole werewolf thing." Jackson opens his mouth but Derek silences him with a glance. "I pestered him into it, really. Stiles is my friend too and I think I can help."

John steps into the room then from where he'd been making coffee in the kitchen. Long nights were their new thing and that meant lots of coffee.

"You can't get a fix on the principal, right?" Derek nods. "I think I can track him." Danny shoots a lingering glance at the sheriff. "Um, as long as I'm not going to get arrested. It's not entirely legal."

John snorts. "Legality left the window when my son was kidnapped. Do whatever you have to."

Danny grins and breaks out his laptop. They all settle in to watch him, providing information about Gerard and his known cronies as needed.

For the first time in months, Derek has hope.

* * *

When Stiles hears the howling, he thinks it's his mind playing tricks on him. He thinks it's the TV. But then there's the sound of gunfire and he struggles to sit up. It's hard to move with his belly distended. He's big enough that he's wondering if he's having twins. He has to roll back and forth on his side to get up.

He doesn't even make it off the mattress. His chains rattle where he's attached to the basement floor. Gerard pounds down the stairs with a large hunting knife in his hand. Stiles pushes himself back, but he doesn't have far to go before he's pressed against the wall.

The knife plunges into his stomach and he howls. There's an angry howl outside in response. He feels like he's dying. Gerard cuts his stomach open and there's blood everywhere, soaking his clothes and making the mattress wet beneath him. He screams and pulls against his chains but they've done something to him or to the chains to make them strong enough that Stiles can't move far.

There's a clatter against the floor as Gerard tosses the knife aside and pulls a baby out of his stomach, umbilical cord dangling loose for a few inches below where Gerard cut it. Gerard frowns and stares down into Stiles's stomach, then back at the baby. He pulls a second one out.

Huh, Stiles thinks, his brain fuzzy. He was right. Twins.

Gerard sets the babies down and smacks them each, starting them screaming. One's eyes shine red and that's the one Gerard grabs with a crow.

He's not healing, Stiles realizes. Well, he is, but not fast enough.

Can werewolves bleed out?

He feels deeply tired. There's a baby screaming next to him and he can't even move, can only watch as Gerard's boots disappear from view.

There's a cacophony of sounds above him. More than one wolf growling. Gunfire going both ways. Lots of voices. He can't make them out.

He closes his eyes.

"Stiles. Stiles."

He's being shaken awake. He hadn't even realized he'd fallen asleep. No, not sleep, not with all that blood. Dying. He was dying.

"Stiles, look at me."

He does, though it's hard to focus on Scott's face where it hovers over him. There's hands on his stomach and he realizes belatedly that Scott is literally holding him together.

It takes him three tries to form words. "Baby."

"It's right here."

He manages a weak shake of his head. "No."

"I can't..." Scott's hands shift on his stomach. He seems frantic. Stiles can guess why. He should be panicked too but emotions are beyond him right now. "Stiles, he's right here."

"Other. Gerard. Twins."

Scott's eyes widen and he turns, shouting up the stairs. "Guys, find Gerard. He has a baby."

"Mine."

Scott rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I figured that part out when I got down here."

"Derek?"

Scott looks a little guilty. "He may have gone a little berserk when he saw you. We thought you were dead. He's chasing after Gerard."

He doesn't want to picture what he must look like. He doesn't blame Derek for making that assumption.

He closes his eyes only to be shaken awake again.

"Oh, no, you don't. You're not dying on my watch."

"Can't... help..."

"Yes, yes you can," Scott says, and there's so much conviction in his voice that Stiles believes for a moment that he's not going to die. "There is no way I'm letting you die when your dad is upstairs."

That startles him into momentary awareness. He tries to sit up and Scott pushes him back down. "My dad?"

"Yes, your dad. My mom's on the way so she can take care of this. I'm sorry. We had to tell him."

Stiles groans. If he survives this, his dad is going to kill him. "How much?"

"Pretty much everything. I'm sorry, dude. We needed his help. And Argent's."

He was so dead. "Chris?"

"And Allison. She's outside with her dad, taking care of some of the guards."

Stiles sighs. Nothing brings people together like mortal peril.

* * *

The trees whip past Derek as he runs. He has a trail to follow this time, a dead body lying in a pool of blood in a basement, and a whole lot of rage. John had been behind him for a moment, but then Derek had shifted into full Alpha and no one can keep up.

He's going to find Gerard, and he's going to kill him. He's going to rip him open, like he'd ripped Stiles open and leave him to bleed out in the middle of the forest.

No. Gerard doesn't deserve to bleed out. He wasn't going to last that long.

A bang sounds seconds before Derek dodges to the left, narrowly avoiding the bullet aimed at him. The hunter dies screaming, his throat slashed out. A second bullet takes Derek in the shoulder. He jerks once, but doesn't even slow down as he turns and takes out the second hunter.

Gerard is close. Derek growls and prowls forward, sniffing out Gerard's scent.

"Not another step, or she drops."

Derek pauses, confused. Gerard holds a baby over a rocky cliff. Where the hell had Gerard gotten a baby and why the hell is Derek supposed to care?

"You don't want to lose your child, do you? The last you have of your pity little mate."

"My..." The word comes out mangled. Derek takes an automatic step back.

"You didn't know did you? Your mate didn't, so why would you? Stiles had one last gift to give – a baby Alpha. Technically there was another but it's likely dead beside your mate by now."

Derek's vision turns red. He doesn't think, he just lunges. Gerard's eyes widen as Derek collides with him, taking them both over the cliff. Derek grabs at the child, wrapping an arm around it, wrenching it from Gerard's grip, and then twisting, digging his claws into the rock of the cliff as they fall. Their descent slows. The baby screams in his ear, but at least it is safe. He hears a wet thud far below but doesn't bother to look.

"Need some help, son?" John peers over the edge of the cliff.

"Yeah," Derek rumbles. The baby quiets at the sound of his voice. "Probably."

* * *

Stiles waits with Scott while the noise dies down. The gunfire ceases. Scott's mom arrives, nearly pukes at the bottom of the stairs, and then pulls out gloves and a curved needle. His head feels like it's floating so she doesn't need to give him anything before she starts stitching him up.

Scott picks up the baby, holding him in uneasy arms while he watches his mom work.

"What is it?"

Scott gives him a look. "A baby."

If he had the energy to roll his eyes, he would. "Gender?"

Scott looks down. "It's a boy."

"Johnathan."

"Like your dad?"

"Yeah." His dad deserves to have a baby named after him. His dad is awesome and ordinary and does not have a name teachers can't pronounce.

"Stiles?"

Speaking of. He blinks his eyes open again, not aware that they'd fallen closed. He has the other baby in his arms, and he's looking down at Stiles with something akin to wonder.

Melissa is gone but Stiles still doesn't feel up to moving. "Hey," he offers instead.

"You're going to be okay, son." His dad doesn't move any closer but his eyes never leave Stiles.

"Okay." Scott's sitting next to him on the mattress, baby John in one arm and his other hand tight on Stiles's.

"You're going to be okay."

He passes out believing that.

* * *

Derek can't quite bring himself to walk into the basement a second time. He's already been down there once, and once is enough. The sight of Stiles cut open, blood everywhere... that is a sight that will haunt him for the rest of his life. He can hear Stiles's voice though, weak and hollow, and the twin heartbeats of their children.

Their children. He had children. With Stiles. The very thought is mind-blowing.

"Derek?"

He blinks and meets John's eyes. He's blocking the stairwell, he realizes and steps aside.

"He's asleep. Melissa says he should be okay. He's healing. Slowly, according to Scott, but he'll be alright."

Derek lets out a breath he doesn't realize he was holding.

"That doesn't look good." John points at Derek's shoulder.

Derek looks down. He'd forgotten all about the bullet. Red veins spread out from the hole. Wolfsbane. He turns, looking for his betas. "Erica?"

She appears from a back room and hands him a box and a lighter. Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson trail after her. Peter is nowhere to be found but that's not surprising. He pulls the bullet out with his fingers, then opens a bullet with his teeth. John winces as Derek grinds burning ash into the wound.

"Wolfsbane bullets, right?"

Derek nods.

"There was a time when all I had to worry about was whether my son would fall into the wrong crowd or get addicted to drugs."

"I'm sorry," Derek says. It's the only thing he can say.

John shakes his head. "I think he found the right crowd." He claps Derek on his uninjured shoulder. "Let's get out of here. Chris said his people will handle the cleanup, and frankly the less I know about that, the better."

He's down the stairs in seconds. Scott is still there, a baby in each arm and he's grinning like a loon. Derek rolls his eyes. Scott is going to be the worst uncle ever. His kids are going to be so spoiled.

He kneels down next to the blood soaked mattress and presses his palm to Stiles's chest, feeling him breath and his steady heartbeat beneath Derek's hand. Once he's reassured that Stiles isn't dead, he picks him up, cradling him gently.

"Let's go home."

* * *

Stiles wakes in his own bed, but he doesn't wake up alone. Derek is curled up against his side and the pack is spread out on the floor and his chairs, passed out in a protective circle around him. Even Danny's there and Stiles smiles at his inclusion. He'd been thinking about asking Derek to bring Danny in.

His stomach feels so much better. He gently pulls away from Derek to push down the covers and pull up his shirt. The stitches are gone and there isn't even a line where his wound should be. Whatever the hunters had been giving him to make him weak must have worn off.

Derek makes a soft sound against his side and Stiles turns, smiling as he meets Derek's eyes. "Hey," he whispers softly.

Derek's arms tighten around him, pulling him close like he never plans to let Stiles go again. Stiles is perfectly okay with that. "Hey."

The pack doesn't even stir, but Stiles still keeps his voice low. It just feels like that kind of moment where talking too loud would ruin it. "Where are the babies?"

"In with John."

Stiles concentrates and after a moment he can pick out two tiny heartbeats interspersed with all the others. They sound steady, healthy despite being a bit premature. He doesn't question Derek's use of his dad's first name. He's been gone a long time. Long enough to miss the end of his junior year and the beginning of senior year. That's a long enough time for his dad and Derek to bond.

"What are their genders?" Stiles asks. "I know one's a boy, the human one. I was thinking Johnathan unless you object."

Derek shakes his head, rubbing it against Stiles's shoulder. "That's a good name. Your father will be proud. The other one's a girl."

"She's going to be an Alpha." Stiles can just picture that. "Jane. Unless you want to name her after your family? Laura, maybe?"

A slight shudder runs through Derek, so small that Stiles would have missed it if they weren't pressed close. "There's only one Laura Hale. Jane is fine."

Stiles bites his lip. "We can name her something else if you want. It doesn't have to be Jane."

"For the love of god," Jackson groans, sitting up from Stiles's computer chair with a cacophony of popping muscles and creaking joints. "It's too early in the morning to be arguing about baby names." He levels Stiles with a glare that's far too fond to be effective.

"I like Jane," Scott interjects from the floor. "It matches."

"Heh. Alpha Jane," Erica snickers.

"I can't believe you have a kid. Two kids," Danny says from the other chair. Lydia is curled up in his lap and while she's definitely awake, she doesn't appear to have anything to add.

"It was a surprise to me too." Stiles remembers something then and smacks Derek on the arm, causing Derek to pull away with a shocked expression. "You said I wouldn't get pregnant."

The sound of laughing is loud enough to wake his dad and the babies too. They start crying and Stiles forces himself out of bed, seeking his children like a homing missile.

His children. That phrase will never stop being astounding.

Derek trails after him, following him into his dad's room. "I didn't know that could happen."

"As assuring as that sounds, go have this conversation elsewhere," Stiles's dad mutters into his pillow.

Stiles flops on his dad, giving him a quick hug before grabbing one of the babies. They both look the same with their eyes their normal colors but he thinks he has Jane and Derek has baby John. "Fine. We're going. I don't suppose you picked up formula?"

"Melissa did. It's in the kitchen."

Stiles and Derek leave his dad alone to wander towards the kitchen. It takes them two tries to get the formula right and then they're feeding the babies, identical grins on wonder on both their faces as they watch their babies.

Stiles has a feeling there's going to be a lot more days like this before the novelty wears off. At least he's got Derek to help him. Not just Derek, but his dad and Mrs. McCall and a whole pack. Their babies are going to have the best support system in the world.

Stiles wouldn't have it any other way.


End file.
